Isn't That My Line?
by Princess Misery
Summary: You want to contribute toward your keep living with the Winchester's. To earn some honest money you start working on a sex line. Its easy money and what's the worst that could happen? Warnings: smut, language, masturbation (female and male), dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks!), bordering on crack-ish maybe? I don't know.


**Summary: **You want to contribute toward your keep living with the Winchester's. To earn some honest money you start working on a sex line. Its easy money and what's the worst that could happen?

**Warnings: **smut, language, masturbation (female and male), dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks!), bordering on crack-ish maybe? I don't know.

**Characters: **Dean Winchester, You.

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester x You.

* * *

**"Isn't That My Line?"**

Pride was a fickle thing. Though the boys had never asked for a penny toward your keep, you felt like you should contribute. After all, one more mouth to feed. They didn't exactly pay bills at the bunker, but you still required clothes (there was only so many washes blood stained jeans could take), and all your feminine products (the expensive stuff, not the cheap stuff that Dean bought that made your skin itch), it all added up over time.

Hustling pool wasn't an option. Shooting a gun - easy. Throwing a knife into a moving target - cake walk, but using a wooden stick to hit a ball an inch away was damn near impossible. Dean joked that it was some cosmic joke how bad you were at something that should be simple compared to your other skills.

Your poker face was non existent, a toddler could read your tells. Credit card scams were the easiest way, but held the most risk and you were always anxious when using them in a store. So you'd had to find another way to earn some cash. Besides having an honest income, working a real job, made you feel normal.

Working from home, making your own hours, and earning twenty dollars an hour seemed too good to be true. However, it would be perfect, it meant you could still hunt, and work, that gave you a swell of pride too. So you had answered the ad on CraigsList.

You'd been at it for three weeks now. Your confidence grew with each call, and you'd only had two that made your skin crawl, but you'd persevered and got through it without actually vomiting. Ironically, those had been your longest calls, earning you the most money.

Tonight, the boys were out and would be gone all night, picking up chicks and earning their money the best way they knew how, meaning you had the bunker to yourself. So you'd showered and shaved, put on your fanciest lingerie and styled your hair. The sexier you felt the easier it would be.

The phone rang. No caller ID. Obviously. You took a sip of wine from the glass on the nightstand and swallowed letting the cold liquid ignite a swirl of confidence in you as you lay back on your bed. With no chance of being caught you put the phone on speaker on the pillow next to you.

"Madam Candy, let me sweeten your night."

"Oh it's sweeter already, sweetheart."

Cocky. Confident. Those are your first thoughts hearing the caller's gruff voice.

"Well, aren't you a charmer."

You'd tried doing accents, or disguising your voice but when one of the callers had actually turned you on you'd forgotten and ruined the illusion - he'd demanded his money back that the 'Spanish' girl he'd been talking to wasn't _actually Spanish_.

"You sound just a sexy as your picture."

He's only seen your body, the pictures on the website were from the neck down. The website showed a list of categories: barely legal, brunette, blonde, big boobs, small boobs, 30s, 40+, fetishes, everything anyone could possibly think of and more. Then each category showed a picture of each girl with her number and 'name'. You were listed under big boobs, just to ease yourself in, slow and easy, nothing too extreme.

The picture you provided proved you weren't lying. Sitting in a chair, legs open, in a red lace bra set, complete with matching suspenders. The push up bra and angle made your boobs look as if they'd spill out. After a short tutorial from Sam, you'd air brushed your scars out, you weren't ashamed of them but they weren't the most attractive thing. After a ridiculous amount of time and photos taken, you'd settled on the one you felt cheekiest in, an overflowing bowl of candy on the table beside you, arms pushing your bust closer together.

"You sound hot too, handsome." It wasn't a lie, cocksure was definitely your type. "And I can tell you're going to be trouble."

"Oh, you have no idea, honey. Trouble's my middle name."

You involuntarily pull your bottom lip between your teeth and you know this is going to be a call that gets you off too. "So troublemaker, what are you wearing?"

He chuckles, gruff and deep. "Isn't that my line?"

"Don't go all shy on me, now," you tease.

"Oh, someone likes to tease," he throws back and you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

You giggle, actually genuine giggle, like a teenager. What the hell? "I'm wearing the bra and panties from my picture."

"Damn," he sighs, and you imagine his rosy pink, plump bottom lip between his teeth. "Just my boxers. Lying on my bed, thinking about having my hands all over the pretty girl I'm talking to. Making her scream my name."

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh, that's a promise, baby. Want me to tell you how I'd do it?"

You can't help but sass back, "Isn't that my line?" Though you want nothing more than to hear him describe it, and technically it is what he called _you_ for but you hope he'll do it anyway.

"Tell you what," he bargained, confidence oozing through the phone, "I'll tell you what I'd do and you do it."

Heat pooled in your core and all you manage is a hum of approval.

"I'd start kissing your neck." Obviously you couldn't kiss your own neck so you run your fingertips from behind your ear, dragging them slowly down until they reach your collarbone.

"I'd bite down right where your neck meets your shoulder."

You pinch the area, imagine his teeth leaving indents instead.

"Work my way south, kissing and sucking. Over your tits, suck your nipple through the fabric, make you arch your back."

Your fingers trace the path he'd take and you feel your other hand automatically slipping across your stomach playing with the waistband of your panties. "I'd run my tongue all over you, dig my big hands around your hips, pull your panties aside."

You let out a laboured breath and you hear a short laugh, "That's it, baby girl, get hot for me."

His voice is so sensual and soft, gives you a weird sense of home and you feel like you'd cum just listening to him talk about the fucking weather.

"Oh, god, my body is craving your touch," you admit unashamedly.

"Are you wet, sweetheart?"

You clit pulses, knowing that's permission to touch yourself, and you don't need any further instruction. Your hand glides down the smooth skin over your stomach, into your panties and as soon as your fingers roll over your pulsing clit, you moan.

"I'm so wet," you sigh, "I wish you were here to feel it."

"Tell me what it feels like." You can tell from the short pauses between words he's pumping himself.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, rubbing your clit in cirlces, letting your fingers glide over and past your entrance. "It's hot, and soft, and so fuckin' wet. I'm so close."

"Cum for me, I wanna hear it."

You obey immediately, move your fingers faster, slide them into your desperate pussy and scissor, thumb keeping a rhythm on your clit. You knead your breast and moan constantly so he can hear it. "God, I'm so tight."

"Fuck," he grunts.

"Tell me your name," you gasp, "so I can scream it, when I -"

Your words are too slow, or your fingers too fast, and your back arches. Your stomach and thighs tremble as you coat your own fingers. Eyes closed, you lie gasping for breath, moaning and still working your pussy, just slower.

"Tell me your name," you request again breathlessly.

You hear the door open, and your eyes spring open and land on Dean, standing in the open door to your room. You'd have been embarrassed if he weren't completely naked, phone still held to his ear, pumping his hard cock with the other hand. Your coil tightens at the sight of him, and you're right on the edge again.

He smirked down at you as he walks closer, tentative but confident, giving you a chance to turn him away.

You grin wickedly, already salivating at the pleasures to come. "So what's your name?"

He winks, placing a knee on the bed beside your foot. "Sweetheart, that's your line and you're gonna be screaming it all night."

"That a promise?"

He ends the call on his phone and tosses it gently on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Oh you're gonna be horse by the time I'm done with you."

Dean places a kiss just above your ankle, his eyes dart from yours back to your fingers buried to the knuckle in your pussy, as he travels. "You're wearing," a kiss below your knee. "way too many," A kiss just above your knee, "clothes," he finishes with a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You laugh, running your free hand through his hair. "You'd better do somethin' about that."

His hands trace up the sides of your legs until he reaches your panties and he drags them slowly down your legs. He stands up straight and throws them over his shoulder. Then he stands and admires your bare pussy for a minute. Dean sucks on his bottom lip while he watches your fingers work yourself to the edge again, and he jerks himself slowly.

He chuckles, "You gonna make some room for me?"

"Just a minute." You lose your breath and have to grip the sheets as your second orgasm washes through you, eyes squeezed shut as you ride the warmth coursing through your veins.

"Fuck, that's hot."

You feel the bed dip, and when you open your eyes, Dean's looming over you. He waits for your eyes to focus then locks his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

Just before you become breathless, you pull away and trail your sopping wet finger up your body and into his mouth. He keeps his eyes on yours as he licks your climax from your fingers like a man starved, whining around your digits until he's done.

"Damn, you taste good," he praises diving toward your neck.

Dean heads south, kissing and sucking in all the places he said he would earlier. He sucks your right nipple through the fabric of your bra, and you arch your back to push it further into his mouth.

"No, I need you now," you plead as he leaves your breast and continues down.

"I wanna taste you," he whispers against your skin.

Cupping his face you draw him back to your lips. "We've got all night for that." You kiss him hard. "I need you," you admit unashamedly. You reach down between your bodies and grip his cock in your hand to emphasise your point, "Now."

"Madam Candy sure is impatient," he sasses, rolling his hips making the tip of his dick glide through your folds.

"Shut up and fuck me already."

Dean chuckles, but in the blink of his eyes, he has both your arms pinned above you, using one of his to hold them in place at the wrists. He wears a smug smirk, thinks he's won, you can see it in the cocky glint of his eyes. You'll prove him wrong.

He uses his free hand to guide his dick to your entrance, nudges forward but doesn't enter. "Protection?" he asks against your lips.

"It's all good," you tell him biting his bottom lip as he pulls away. One inch, you clench your walls. His breath hitches, but he sinks in deeper. It's not until the third time that he realises you're doing it on purpose.

Three Inches deep, he pauses and loses his breath. "You keep that up, this isn't going to last long."

You laugh and whatever sassy remark you were going to give is snatched from your breath as his hips collide with yours.

You know you're not going to last long as soon as he starts to move. Back. Forth.

"Dean," you hum.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

"Oh _shit_, Dean."

The phone rings right beside your ear and makes you jump. Dean releases your hands. "Answer it."

"What?" You gasp as he picks up the rhythm.

"Answer it," he grunts and buries his head in your neck. Whispers in your ear, "Let them hear you gettin' fucked."

You press answer on the cellphone. "Madam - _fuck _\- Candy. Let me-"

You let out a scream as you cum again and wrap your legs around his waist as you dig your nails into Dean's back. It makes him arch his back, and the new angle allows him to slam harder into you. You feel him quiver under your fingers, and he bites down on your shoulder as he reaches his climax, too.

You moan and hum happily as Dean collapses on top of you. You both pant for breath and revel in the endorphins coursing through you.

There's a long moment of nothing but laboured breathing, and then "Hello?" comes from the phone.

"Oh, shit," you laugh scrambling to find the thing.

Dean finds it before you do, "Madam Candy can't come to the phone right now-" he pulls away from your grabbing hands, "cos she's busy gettin' fucked. Leave a message…"

You snatch the phone from him and quickly hang up, stifling your laughter until the screen fades to black.

"What, did I not do it right?" chuckles Dean, rolling onto the bed beside you and propping himself up on his elbow.

You stare up at him, taking note of how his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, how more prominent his freckles are now that he has a fresh flush of heat to his skin. He smiles down at you, brushes some hair from your face, and leans in to kiss you with more passion and less haste.

Dean runs his hand over your stomach, grips your hip, and you moan into him. He leaves you breathless and seems just as lustful as you feel.

"So, how'd you figure it out?"

He grins, proud and smug. "You might want to think about air brushing out your tattoo," he suggests, tracing his fingers over the anti possession tattoo on your left hip.

You shake your head at your own stupid mistake. Your tattoos are so much a part of you, you don't notice them anymore. Though, that mistake had led to this moment, so it wasn't all that bad. You run your nails up and down his chest while Dean uses the tip of his finger to follow the pattern of your tattoo.

"Wait, that doesn't explain how you found the website I was on."

"You used my computer the other week, forgot to log out of your emails. I saw the sign up confirmation."

You remembered the day he was talking about. Sam had rushed you out of the door, too eager to get on the road, another dumb mistake, or dumb luck, as you were starting to think of it.

"It took me three days to find your picture on the website, and I swear I stared at it for like a week to make sure it was really you. Sam almost caught me like three times." He laughs at the memory. "So I waited until you went on a supply run, snuck in here to compare the furniture."

"So you basically turned me into a case?"

"Best damn case I ever solved," Dean grins broadly and steals a quick kiss. "So you're not mad at me?"

"The only thing I'm mad about is the time we've wasted," you tell him. "I think we've both been dancing around this for months now." He nods agreement. "So let's make up for lost time," you suggest pulling him to your lips.

His hands begin to roam, kneading your breasts and you feel his hard dick press into the side of your leg when he leans over you. Just as his palm runs flat against your stomach, heading south, you wiggle from under him and stand up.

He pouts-full on pouts like you've just taken the last of his pie-and you can't help but laugh as he whines, "Where you going?"

You unhook your bra and pull it off your arms. "I've always wanted to fuck on the library table." You smirk and throw the garment in his face. "Last one there goes on top," you challenge as he pulls it away. You see the devilish grin pull his lips back, and then he's clambering off the bed as you make a break for the door.


End file.
